


Pushing Them Out of The Nest

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Grey's Anatomy, National Football League (NFL) RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-16
Updated: 2007-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda Bailey is a caretaker. It's too bad taking care of people is such a pain in her ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushing Them Out of The Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Not a part of the _Spiel Mit Mir_ universe. It is also not set in our universe, nor in any concrete time.
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

"And when we see our whole world as yellow, what do we do?"

"Go back in the game."

"Mmmhmm," Bailey murmured. "And no. Are you hearing me? NO." He began to argue and she raised her hand and frowned. "I already know your argument. You think I work in a building full of doctors and I don't know your argument? Everyone wants to get back in the game, everyone wants to be perfect. And you are not going to be perfect when you get hit in the head too many times and get stupid."

"I can handle it."

"No, you cannot." She raised her hand again and considered swatting him on the leg when he tried to get out of bed. "You are the football player and I am the doctor. This means that here, when you are lying on your skinny white ass in my hospital bed, that _you_ are _mine_."

"It's my decision."

"Sure it is. And you don't have any choice in the matter, right? Got to do what you do and not let anyone down."

"Yeah."

Oh, yeah, she understood that. She wasn't letting him out of this bed, but she understood that. "You've got some great looking boys. They must be proud of you."

He didn't smile and didn't agree. Smart for a guy who'd gotten hit in the head as much as he had.

* * *

 

Gossip was there was a famous older man in her hospital, being yelled at by a famous younger man. Karev was going crazy about football, Stevens was rolling her eyes and muttering about testosterone, and the Chief was giving her that 'Miranda, this is your responsibility' look.

"And how is this my problem?" She cut off the Chief with a shake of her head. "I have a child. I have a husband. I have interns. I do not need one more person to take care of."

"You're a doctor. He's your patient. That is how he is your problem."

"Fine. I will handle it. It will be handled." She continued to mutter as she stalked down the hallway. "Not enough I've got interns sleeping here and there, doctors acting like children, diapers to change when I get home, now I've got to referee athletes who play a game I do not even have the time to watch. There is no justice in this world, no there is not."

She raised her voice when she entered the room. "You. Yes, you, the one who is _not_ a patient in my hospital. What is it you are doing yelling at a sick man?"

"He's not sick. He's stupid!"

"He is also injured. And we do not yell at injured people." She scowled. "Even if they are stupid."

"You do."

She glared at the woman who had spoken. "Stevens. Do you have something to add here?"

"Yes." Izzie crossed her arms over her chest. "When I was hurt you yelled at me."

"You weren't hurt, you were stupid."

The visitor raised his fist in the air. "Yes! Yelling at the stupid!" He pointed at the patient. "See that, Drew? Even the lovely Doctor Bailey yells at the stupid."

"She does."

"I do not!" She was absolutely not yelling now. Absolutely not. Patients and interns did not disturb the composure of one Miranda Bailey, no they did not. "I do not want to hear another word." She shook her finger. "Not one, Stevens. As a matter of fact, don't you have work to do?"

"Yes."

"Then get to doing it! And do not cause me any more trouble when you do."

"Fine."

Oh, interns did not "fine" her. That was just not a thing that could be tolerated. Let a "fine" go one day and the next thing you knew there was chaos in the hospital. You had to nip these sorts of things in the bud. You had to—

"You going to let her get away with that?"

"Stop talking to me."

* * *

 

"Mr. … Bledsoe, is it?"

Dr. Shepherd knew the man's name. He'd been talking to Karev of all people about famous football players and the athletic escapades of his youth. Luckily she separated them before Karev chimed in with some of his own escapades. "Enough with the stalling. Tell the man what is going to happen to his brain if he doesn't smarten up."

"Thank you, Dr. Bailey. I'll just do that, then." He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Mr. Bledsoe, are you aware of the long-term effects of concussion?"

"I golf with Steve Young."

Both men laughed. That was just not okay. "Do you boys think now is a good time to make jokes?"

"No, ma'am."

"No, Miranda."

Mmmhmm, that was what she had been looking for all day, people snapping to it when she spoke. "Then let's get back to business, shall we? Do the words 'cumulative neurological damage' mean anything to you?" She held her hand in the air. "Not you, Dr. Shepherd. I should hope they mean something to you. I am asking my patient."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"It is a risk you are willing to take." She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then decided ten wasn't enough and added another five. _Breathe in and out, Miranda. Breathe in and out._ She settled on twenty then opened her eyes. "I have had enough. Do you realize that you are at higher risk for epilepsy? Did you realize that there is a possible link between multiple concussions and Alzheimer's Disease?"

"Yes." He shook his head sadly. "I know, Dr. Bailey. I know my chances of getting a concussion and I know the risks. I also know I'm a football player."

"If you return to playing too soon you are at risk for second-impact syndrome," Shepherd said.

"I know." He lowered his voice. "One point five deaths a year. Chances are low. I wear a helmet. I'm careful."

"Okay. Well," Shepherd concluded his examination and closed his clipboard. "You're in good shape, considering. I have to warn you about continuing to play but you're well aware of the risks."

Twenty-five. Twenty-five would be good.

* * *

 

Her patient was arguing with his visitor about being in a wheelchair. Why was it all the stubborn patients wanted to walk out of the hospital under their own power and refused to sit their asses down?

"Mr. Bledsoe, sit in the wheelchair. Mr. Brady, we do not race wheelchairs through the hallway of a hospital." She slid her hands onto the chair's handles. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Brady, why don't you just go and take Mr. Bledsoe's bags outside while I have a word with your friend." He hesitated and she began wheeling the chair away. "Go on, scoot."

"I'm not retiring, Dr. Bailey."

"Oh, I know that. I can see how stubborn you are." She wheeled him to the door, stopped, then crouched beside him. "But how many chances are you going to take?"

"As many as I have to."

"You've got beautiful children and a good friend. You want to lose all that someday?"

"I won't." He tilted his head to look directly at her. "No more than you will through what you do."

* * *

 

Karev was pissy she never let him get an autograph from her famous patient and his even more famous visitor. "You couldn't get him to sign one thing?"

"He did sign one thing. He signed his paperwork."

"Come on, Dr. Bailey. One autograph. Would it have killed you?"

"Are you a doctor, Karev? Is this a hospital? Do you think we are in the business of getting autographs from our patients? Or are we possibly in the business of healing them?"

"Healing them," he muttered. "But one autograph. He's used to it."

"He is used to a great many things, Doctor Karev. That does not mean we should add to them."

"But—"

"No. No buts. The only butt I want around here is yours walking away from me. Now go."

He went. They all went, and eventually they all learned enough to not argue with her when they did. Karev would always whine about not getting what he wanted, Bledsoe would always think he understood the risks, and she'd always be a caretaker. It was just too bad that taking care of people was such a pain in her ass. "_Such_ a pain in my ass."

Karev turned around. "Dr. Bailey?"

"Pain in my ass, Karev. Now go."


End file.
